


A Lesson in Dominance

by witchkings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, M/M, Misunderstandings, Modern AU, Smut, Tutoring, and yes, bad data analysis jokes, freshman!mairon, loose dom-sub dynamic, more smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29354121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchkings/pseuds/witchkings
Summary: A shadow fell over the table and a big hand slammed down next to Mairon’s notes, upsetting his neatly sorted markers which he wanted to protest, but when he glanced up, he fell silent. An upperclassman had approached their table, a senior Mairon thought. He hadn’t seen the guy around much, but he always sported a sour expression and messy dark hair that hugged his ribcage. His leather jacket was torn in places, but in a way that seemed deliberate and his skin had a sickly pallor as though he hadn’t seen the sun in several weeks. Mairon didn’t know what he studied or where he had suddenly come from. Didn’t even know his name, only that the smile he wore now was mesmerizing.“Can I help you?” Mairon asked, throat suddenly dry.“On the contrary, I am here to help you. I know a thing or two about dominance... want me to teach you?"
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	A Lesson in Dominance

**Author's Note:**

> So, we talked about dominance analysis in my statistics class and my brain working the way it does, 'dominance' made me think of Angbang, then this happened. But don't worry, you don't have to know what dominance analysis to get this fic, it's mostly smut anyway. Hope you enjoy :)

„I don’t get this dominance thing,“ Mairon said on a huff. He was frustrated to no end with his data analysis class. The last two weeks blurred together in his mind, a big smudge of incomprehension. He hadn’t kept up with the course work at all, had three practice exams due and he was still stuck on regression analysis. Around him, the members of his study group weren’t faring much better. With the exception of Curumo, face obscured by stacks and stacks of books, the others were all bent over their lecture notes, each as clueless as the next. Well, alright, Ossë and Uinen were bent over each other, but still technically partaking in the study session. Ilmarë and Olórin both echoed Mairon’s sigh which got them an annoyed glare from the next table over. The library was packed, but the chatter swelled and fell all around them, there was no need for the guy to be annoyed at them. Fucking ornithologists.

„I wish I could tell you I did,” Olórin said.

“So do I,” Mairon replied, glancing down at his notes. “I mean I understand that it’s about the importance of the different variables or something, but like, how does it work? What’s the difference between general and complete dominance?”

A shadow fell over the table and a big hand slammed down next to Mairon’s notes, upsetting his neatly sorted markers which he wanted to protest, but when he glanced up, he fell silent. An upperclassman had approached their table, a senior Mairon thought. He hadn’t seen the guy around much, but he always sported a sour expression and messy dark hair that hugged his ribcage. His leather jacket was torn in places, but in a way that seemed deliberate and his skin had a sickly pallor as though he hadn’t seen the sun in several weeks. Mairon didn’t know what he studied or where he had suddenly come from. Didn’t even know his name, only that the smile he wore now was mesmerizing.

“Can I help you?” Mairon asked, throat suddenly dry.

“On the contrary, I am here to help you. I know a thing or two about dominance.” His voice was a soft rumble that unsettled something in Mairon’s chest. Clearing his throat to overcome the discomfort, Mairon met the guy’s eyes. They were a faded blue, grey-tinged, as though they had been washed too many times. What a silly thought, that.

“You do?”

“Sure,” he said and his smirk widened. He didn’t pay heed to any of the others and Mairon could practically taste Ilmarë’s irritation, a dark miasma. She was used to being the magnet of attention and Mairon couldn’t deny her the inherent beauty that made it so. “Want me to teach you?”

“That would be nice.” Mairon swallowed heavily.

“Great, just drop by my place after class.” The guy bent down and his long hair tickled Mairon’s cheek as he grabbed one of the markers and scrawled a string of numbers straight across Mairon’s neat notes in bright neon orange. Then, he straightened, winked in reaction to Mairon’s confused blinking and sauntered off. A moment later, he had disappeared between rows of shelves.

“Well,” Mairon said. “That is that taken care of then.”

„Mairon, I'm not sure you should,“ Ilmarë said, furrowing her brow. „My sister Varda is dating his brother and she says he is involved in some ominous dealings. Often misses classes, never sleeps and hangs out with those guys from the rehabilitation programme who like to get drunk and, like, rob convenience stores or tattoo each other in murky basements.“

„I think he's creepy,“ Olórin added under his breath.

„He probably lives in one of those rancid dormitories they have crammed into the old Ford factory north of town. Gives of that smeary kind of vibe,“ Curumo supplied. It was the first thing he'd said all day and Mairon had thought him too engrossed in the preparation for his upcoming presentation to even notice the guy’s offer.

„Oh yes, I can perfectly imagine it. Bet he has a rat infestation.“

„Guys,“ Mairon said and tapped each of their foreheads with his pen which had them staring cross-eyed upwards. „It's not like I wanna marry him, I'll just pop over for a one-time tutoring session and then that's that.“

„Alright, but don't say we didn't warn you,“ Ilmarë said.

„And do share your enlightenment with us,“ Curumo said before going back to his notes. Mairon glanced around the table, and noted that Ossë and Uinen had stopped making out and were throwing him puppy eyes while Olórin looked red-faced, ready to pounce.

„Sure will. But I get to pick what movie we watch on Friday,“ Mairon replied, satisfied when they all nodded.

The guy’s name was Melkor and Mairon found himself not in front of the old Ford factory, but on the fifth floor of a sleek apartment building whose lower stories housed dentist’s offices and physical therapists and whose elevator had buttons for ‘the gym’, ‘the pool’ and a rooftop terrace. It had all the flair of an abode for affluent bachelors and childless business couples, but Mairon was not one to judge. If he was honest with himself, he was relieved. Anything was better than the ghastly visuals his friends had planted in his mind.

Before he could knock on the white-lacquered door, it swung open to reveal a one-room apartment into which the beige carpet flooring from the hallways bled over. Melkor stepped aside to let Mairon in with a quick hello and Mairon darted past him, head bowed. Even like that, he could see that Melkor had discarded his leather jacket and tank top in favour for a pale blue shirt that accentuated his bulge, and had pulled his hair back into a loose knot. The lack of punk rock attitude aged him up considerably and suddenly, the apartment made a lot more sense.

“Hi,” Mairon replied. He stopped in the middle of the room and stared out of the big window, suddenly self-conscious. A blush crept into his cheek and he turned to face his host who was staring at him, smirking. “Uh, lovely place.” Mairon wanted to smack himself. How lame. Then again, it wasn’t like he was here to impress Melkor with his eloquence.

„Can I interest you in a glass of wine?“ Melkor said and produced two empty ones from a low side-board. One of them was squeaky-clean, gleaming orange from an electric fire place, the other was dusty, streaked with grime.

„Ah, no thank you,“ Mairon replied. „I don't think that would be at all conducive to our progress. I'd prefer to start right away.“ For lack of another sitting opportunity, Mairon made for the couch and placed his bag pack by the low table, then sat. The cushion gave way, plush against his body, and the upholstery was soft, clean as though the couch was rarely used. Mairon folded his hands over his lap and looked up, waiting for Melkor to join him. This was about data analysis, after all.

“Straight to the point, huh?”

“Is there a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” Melkor replied and put the wine glasses down before settling down next to Mairon, so close that their thighs pressed up against each other. “I think your determination is admirable.” He reached out and tucked back a strand of Mairon’s hair. “I think the sense of urgency is somewhat… sexy.”

“Anyway, I better retrieve my notes…” Mairon made to shuffle away from his host and reach for his backpack, but as though he were a mere puppet, Melkor caught him in the movement, one hand on his hip, the other cradling his chin.

“Uh-uh,” he crooned.

“I’m sorry,” Mairon spluttered, “This is-“ He was caught off by an insistent kiss that set his chest aflutter. Of course, some visceral part of him had admitted to instant attraction the moment Melkor had approached their table earlier that day, but he had shoved it down. Finals weren’t far off and there were still those practice exams his Professor would want in his inbox by the weekend. Mairon had to buckle down and study except how could he not give in to the thin curve of Melkor’s mouth, how could he not reach up to stroke those broad shoulders, how could he not obediently part his lips when Melkor’s hot tongue demanded entrance to curl around his own. Mairon was utterly helpless in the face of this brunt seduction and he knew he would fall apart tonight as well as he knew he would have to find some other means of acquiring the knowledge he needed. Perhaps, Melkor would be more willing to share it afterwards, perhaps this was the upfront payment for his tutoring. That had to be it. Mairon should have found that irksome, but as Melkor grazed his jaw and tilted his head back, one hand now fisted in Mairon’s hair, he found that he didn’t, really.

“I thought we were going to talk about dominance analysis?” Mairon whispered to cover up a moan that had snuck up on him as Melkor kissed a sensitive patch of skin behind his ear. It felt good, the warm lips, the closeness of his body, but this was not at all what he had come here for. Part of him wanted to push Melkor off and demand answers, preferably answers to his statistics woes, and the other part of him – the one currently winning – hoped Melkor hadn’t even heard the question. The answer came as a high-frequency hum that shivered down his neck, travelled the length of his spine and wrapped around his ribcage, his waist, his hips, pooling against his lower abdomen as a flash of desire.

“I prefer a practical approach to teaching,” Melkor purred and before Mairon could fathom the physics of it, he was pressed into the sofa, flat on his back with his wrists pinned in place over his head, cushioned between the arm rest and Melkor’s huge hand which was gentle even in pressure, careful even in this display of control. The other had slipped under Mairon’s shirt and sharp fingernails scraped over his sensitive skin, there where his muscles clenched and the electricity of his want accumulated, slipped higher then to trace the barely-formed lines of his muscles, beckoning blood to rise and paint them pink. Mairon gasped. Squirming under the touch, he tried to surge upward and re-capture Melkor’s mouth, but the hand on his chest pressed down and his thighs were straddled by Melkor’s.

“Please,” Mairon said before he could stop himself.

“My, my, you really are overeager,” Melkor said and leaned closer so that his lips hovered so close to Mairon’s that he could feel sparks flying between them. It tingled and ached and then Melkor’s nails brushed one of his nipples at the same time that his cock brushed over Mairon’s and even through the layers of cloth, the sensation jolted through him. “But I suppose it makes sense. I only ever see you hunched over your notes, hiding your pretty face from the world. Tell me, little busybee, when was the last time you got laid?”

Mairon murmured something in reply and tilted his chin as far up as it would go. His hips bucked and wayward strands of Melkor’s hair tickled his cheek. This close, Melkor didn’t smell of cigarette smoke or aftershave or even the usual smog of the city. He smelled simply of laundry detergent, but when he granted Mairon a chaste kiss, he tasted like the crackle of lightning.

“What was that?” Melkor mouthed, teeth grazing, teasing Mairon’s lower lip. The grip he had on Mairon’s wrists tightened and his other hand wandered lower once more, not in lazy patterns nor in haste. Melkor pressed his fingertips against Mairon’s skin, just below his waist band and sat back on his heels as far as the position would allow. Most of his hair had come loose, framing his devilish smirk and Mairon whimpered as his lungs refused to take oxygen in. He had come to this flat with the sole intention of upping his data analysis game and earning the group’s favour and now all he wanted was for this random upperclassman he had only really met today to fuck him so thoroughly he forgot all about school.

“Kiss me again?” Mairon asked. His tone was suffused with desperation so fierce that the words trembled upon it. Melkor's smirk widened and, god, where had this man been all his life? The fingertips wandered further, flicking over the tip of Mairon's cock through his briefs and he gasped in reply.

“Not until you answer my question, dear.”

“What, uh-” Pausing, Mairon licked his lips. His body felt ablaze, heated and slippery, but his mouth was bone dry. “What was that again?”

“When was the last time you got laid?”

“I don't know.”

“Huh,” Melkor said, retrieving both his hands. A liquid elegance clung to his limbs as he rose, leaving Mairon in a heaving heap of want. He stood by the couch, arms loosely crossed over his chest and peered down his nose at Mairon with a dark, predatory expression. Mercurial almost, this man. And again, Mairon thought, where have you been? “I do.”

“What?” Mairon asked.

“Strip, and I'll divulge a little secret.”

Mairon scrambled into a sitting position, his pants tight to a painful degree and made quick work of them, of his shirt, his socks. Then he sat cross-legged, gazing up at his host. More pleas hung suspended in the forefront of what remained of his sanity, the rest of it busy with behavioural control so that he didn't either jump Melkor or touch himself, but he waited. He could be patient. He was a good student.

“The briefs too,” Melkor said and casually wandered the perimeter of his flat. His bed was hidden behind a curtain in an alcove and he drew it aside, fluffed the pillows, slipped out of his own shirt. The two thin scars that criss-crossed over his left shoulder blade momentarily distracted Mairon and his eyes raked across Melkor's muscular back-side, lower, then up again to where he watched Mairon over his shoulder. His eyes simmered with unspoken truths, his body was taut with yet leashed pleasures. After disposing of his briefs, Mairon rose from the couch, following the beckoning of Melkor's hand into his waiting arms for a graciously deep kiss that robbed Mairon of all equilibrium until the intoxicating stroke of Melkor's tongue made sure it was only by virtue of his embrace that he remained steady on his feet.

“It was orientation week,” Melkor said at last, breaking the kiss. As if Mairon were but another cushion to arrange, he picked him up and deposited him on the bed. Mairon watched him undress as he spoke, choosing his words as carefully as the skin he revealed. “You were the picture of the overeager freshman, ready to get absolutely shit-faced and fucked senseless. And my, oh my, did you do exactly that.” Melkor pushed down his boxers at last and Mairon's eyes couldn't stop drinking in the sight of him, lean muscles, broad thighs, a cock the perfect size to choke on. Mairon licked his lips again. “I even gave you my number back then, but I never heard from you.”

Mairon frowned. This would have been almost a year ago, a night that had not wanted to consolidate what with the excessive amounts of tequila he and Curumo had downed. The slip of paper still sat idly in his wallet. He had kept it not out of the intention to call whoever had given it to him, but as a token. To remember to let loose every once in a while… it had evidently not done its job.

“I really should have called you,” Mairon whispered.

“Yes,” Melkor replied. “But I do not begrudge you your hesitation. I suspect it stemmed from an alcohol-induced amnesia.” He climbed onto the bed and easily pressed Mairon back into the mattress, lapping at his collar bones. “Do I have to restrain you or can you keep your hands to yourself?”

“If you ask me to,” Mairon replied. That earned him a grunt of approval and another lingering kiss that he felt prickling throughout his whole body even after Melkor had turned his attention back to Mairon's throat, muttering against it.

“You may not touch yourself, you may not touch me. If you do find with an urge to do so, beg. Is that understood?”

„Yes.“

“Good.” Melkor reached over Mairon’s head where a shelf floated over the bed and retrieved a small bottle of lube, never breaking his insistent, nibbling treatment of Mairon’s collarbones, his pecs, his shoulders. Mairon threw his head back and braced himself for the sting of intrusion. It had been a year, a year of stringent sticking to his studies and no excursions allowed. It would hurt, but Mairon bit down on his lip, resolved not to let Melkor know how weak he really was. How much he wanted this.

Melkor popped open the bottle and quickly coated two of his fingers in lube before distracting Mairon with licking over his nipples, first the left, then the right and in between, he pushed one finger inside, efficient and quick. The cool liquid soothed some of the ache and before it could truly settle, before the shock of the intrusion pieced together, Melkor added a second finger. Efficient and quick. Close to brutal, but feathered by the soft speckling of kisses he placed on Mairon’s lips, cheeks, nose and Mairon worked hard to force himself to relax under and around Melkor. The first tentative probes were uncomfortable still, though hardly more than that. After a few moments, however, the discomfort turned into a gently simmering heat that sparked whenever Melkor pulled back almost entirely and pushed inside stronger, more insistent. On one thrust, Mairon let out a long whine of lust and Melkor grinned.

“Would you have more?” he asked, opening his fingers up. “Or would you have my cock?”

“Your cock,” Mairon gasped. “Please.”

Melkor gladly obliged and slicked up his swollen cock, then pried Mairon’s legs further apart, his hands leaving hot imprints on Mairon’s thighs where he gripped them. No pause was had, no second thought given as Melkor buried himself to the hilt in Mairon’s tender flesh and, again, he left no opening for Mairon’s pain to register. He picked up a softly accelerating rhythm, his mouth back to wandering all over Mairon’s upper body, neck, face. Moaning through it, Mairon held onto the mattress. It wasn’t enough.

„Can I hold on to you?“ Mairon asked between moans, lids fluttering, fingers itching against the crispy white linens, itching to feel the shift of Melkor’s backside, the sharp outline of his shoulder blades. He was completely covered by Melkor’s huge frame, was filled out by his big cock which pounded, pounded, pounded into him with precise abandon and yet it still wasn’t enough. He needed to touch more of Melkor, needed to feel more of Melkor.

„Shut up,“ Melkor said. He grabbed a handful of Mairon’s hair on his next thrust and dragged his head back roughly, angling his lips over Mairon’s. In a bruising kiss, he drank the next groan straight from Mairon’s throat. His other hand had hooked under Mairon’s knee and raised his leg to gain deeper access.

Mairon yielded. He let go of his desire to touch Melkor and simply felt the rhythmic throbbing pleasure of his cock inside of him, accepted his tongue-and-teeth assault, the rough tingle on his scalp where his hair was being pulled back sharply. It all culminated as heat in his lower body where his own cock ached and the pleasure built and built. Waves of heat shivered over his skin and he moaned into Melkor’s mouth, moaned and whined and jerked his hips to meet the roll of Melkor’s and fisted his hands into the sheets and took, and took, and took, forsaking even the last bit of rationale and control for this heavenly treatment.

Gradually, Melkor’s movements morphed into spastic, desperate thrusts, hard and quick and underlined by sharp intakes of breath, small grunts that Mairon felt reverberate against his own chest and half an eternity later, when Mairon was only loud moans and liquid muscle, Melkor let out a guttural groan and climaxed with another harsh kiss to Mairon’s puffy lips. As his hot seed pumped into Mairon on the last lingering pushes of his hips, Melkor reached between them and palmed Mairon’s painfully hard cock, stroked the tip languidly, as though he hadn’t just fucked Mairon stupid. The slow, sensual swirls of his thumb blazed harder through Mairon’s body, wrecking everything in their path, than any hard-and-fast treatment could have and he came seconds later with a soft cry, spilling over Melkor’s hand. Melkor wiped it on the sheets next to them, pecked Mairon on the cheek and rolled off.

„Oh my god,“ Mairon said, panting. He couldn’t yet open his eyes, but as the last waves of bliss faded, reality came crashing back in. And with it, the epiphany he had waited for all week. „I think I finally get it.“

„What?“ Melkor asked, his voice a low purr. Something burned perpetrated Mairon’s nostrils and he squinted to see that Melkor had lit a cigarette, offering it to Mairon after he had taken a deep drag. Mairon took it and sighed as the cocktail of nicotine and dopamine staved off the other hormones, relaxing him deep into the pillows.

„Dominance analysis. I think I finally get it.“

„Told you I knew a thing or two,“ Melkor said. He wore a self-satisfied smirk, head cushioned on his crossed arms and the rise and fall of his chest still bore the last infinitesimal hitches of his orgasm. Ridiculous. This man was utterly ridiculous. Sure, it might have been the best sex of Mairon’s life, but that didn’t make up for the fact that nothing about Melkor made sense.

“You’ve got some unorthodox teaching methods. I hope you don’t treat all your students like that.”

“I don’t usually tutor others,” Melkor replied and snatched the cigarette back. “But if you forget to call again, I just might have to.”

“I will call,” Mairon said, more hastily than he’d meant to. If he could reap the dual benefits of a thorough fuck and homework epiphanies, well. Who was he to say no to that?


End file.
